Riddled And Empty Handed

The enthusiastic logastellus,
empty handed yet so scripturient;
Try to write it feels incoherent,
without words there is no audience;

Plagued with a poor vocabulary,
madness fills an overactive mind;
First line leaves that soul unsatisfied,
not able to capture a writer’s quiddity; 

You can sit warm yourself by the fire 
believing the Muse comes on command;
When will raw emotion understand 
it takes tools to pen what you desire;

Go out communicate in person 
you’ll pick up a new line every time;
No longer with a struggle to rhyme,
No longer riddled with guiltroversion.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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